


i'll check in tomorrow if i don't wake up dead

by StopIWantToTalkAboutCheese



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Angst, Crack, Crack Treated Seriously, Crack and Angst, Hopeful Ending, No Echo bashing, Time Travel, a dash of becho, and i have absolutely no control over it., because 2020., bellarke if you squint, no bellamy bashing, no clarke bashing, nobody is bashed!! i promise!!!, please please please dont take this seriously i wrote it for fun, there is a "zoom call scene" in there though, this entire work swings back and forth wildly from crack to angst, this was supposed to be funny but my anger at season 7 definitely slipped in there. sorry.
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-04
Updated: 2021-01-04
Packaged: 2021-03-14 00:06:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,742
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28537083
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StopIWantToTalkAboutCheese/pseuds/StopIWantToTalkAboutCheese
Summary: Octavia's been acting strange, and Bellamy is going to find out why, even if it kills him.(A time travel fic, from the perspective of someone who didn't time travel.)
Relationships: Bellamy Blake & Nathan Miller, Bellamy Blake & Octavia Blake, Bellamy Blake/Clarke Griffin, Bellamy Blake/Echo (past)
Comments: 10
Kudos: 51
Collections: The 100 Fix-Its and Rewrites





	i'll check in tomorrow if i don't wake up dead

**Author's Note:**

> The title is from the song "Alone Together" by Fall Out Boy, which is, imho, the epitome of _The 100._

Bellamy should have noticed.

He really should have noticed.

_My sister, my responsibility._

Octavia had been acting strange for days now. Ever since she had woken up swearing up a storm and Bellamy had all but tackled her to keep her quiet, she had been– weird.

He had first noticed her newfound weirdness after the last time he had brought her food. That morning, he had grabbed a couple blocks of algae– nothing weird, just the usual– only to realize as soon as the money left his hand that he had bought the _wrong kind._ He had meant to grab light green, because Octavia had asked for it the night before, but there was– okay, there was a really pretty blonde girl that he’d never seen before and she’d asked him his name and what he was doing there and so maybe he’d gotten _a little_ distracted– well, in any case, he hadn’t been paying attention and bought dark green instead. Octavia wasn’t picky by any means, but it was such a simple request and she barely got anything she wanted anyway so Bellamy had wanted to do his best to get her the good flavor and he had _forgotten,_ he was such a terrible brother–

But Octavia had taken the cube and bit into it like nothing was wrong. Even though Bellamy had _promised._ Even though he was obviously the _worst big brother in the world._

“Um,” he’d said.

“Yeah?” Octavia said around a mouthful of the dark green algae.

“You’re not mad?”

Octavia finished the first corner and started working on the second. “No? Why would I be mad?”

“I promised the other kind. Remember?”

Octavia frowned. “Uh… nope. Sorry, big brother.”

“Really?” Usually, Octavia would hound him about this kind of thing. He couldn’t blame her; it wasn’t like she could go out and get it herself. “But… it’s your favorite kind.”

Octavia shrugged. The cube was halfway gone. “I don’t care.”

“You don’t care.” Bellamy said flatly, disbelievingly.

His little sister just grinned. “I’ve eaten worse.”

“…Okay,” Bellamy said, wondering if there was some kind of joke he wasn’t getting. “Well, I’ll be sure to get light green next time.”

She shrugged.

So, yeah. She was acting weird.

But maybe Octavia was just becoming a teenager. Maybe she really _had_ forgotten. Maybe she was just used to disappointment (and _that_ idea caused a whole new guilty feeling in his gut). 

But did that mean something was _wrong?_ No. No, of course not. It was just– weird. 

At least, that’s what he thought.

Bellamy should have seen it.

But he didn’t.

Bellamy didn’t notice anything was really _wrong_ until Octavia poked her head out from under the floor and said, “Oh, hey, Bellamy. What the hell is going on?”

Normally this wouldn’t be a problem.

Normally, he would say hi back.

But _normally,_ Bellamy wouldn’t have a school project due the next day. _Normally,_ there wouldn’t be _a whole other person in the room at that very moment._

Nathan Miller turned and blinked down at Bellamy's illegal baby sister, poking her head out from under the floor like nothing was wrong, and lifted his eyebrows in surprise.

_Oh God oh God oh God oh God–_

“Oh. Hi, Octavia,” said Miller, and Bellamy’s brain short-circuited. 

“Hi, Miller,” she said. Then, back to Bellamy, “Hey. I asked you a question.”

The room was spinning. Bellamy’s heart was going at a million miles an hour.

“We’re working on a project,” Miller said when Bellamy could only stutter. He grinned, like there was a secret joke only he and Octavia were in on. “Know anything about ancient Rome?”

Octavia’s eyes lit up. 

“Oh, God,” Bellamy gasped out. Maybe he could pass this off. Maybe he could pretend Octavia was a secret girlfriend or something. As gross as that was, it wasn’t half as illegal as having a little sister living beneath the floor–

And then Octavia went and screwed it up. “You okay, big brother?”

 _Big brother. Oh, God. Oh, God._

Bellamy whirled on his classmate. “I’ll pay you. I will. I– I–” He couldn’t think. Everything was coming crashing down. He couldn’t _think._ His worst fears were coming true, and Bellamy was completely frozen. “Please. Please, I– I’ll do anything. Please, please, don’t report us.”

Miller tipped his head at Bellamy. Like he was _confused,_ or something. _Why, that little…_ no. No, focus, Bellamy!

“Please,” Bellamy said, because he figured throwing one more in there couldn’t hurt.

“Damn,” Miller said. “He really doesn’t remember.”

“Re– remember?” Bellamy said. “Remember what? Miller, listen, buddy, we can work something out.”

“Clarke and I _told you,”_ Octavia said.

Something in Bellamy’s brain shrieked and promptly died.

“You did,” Miller agreed.

_Told you. Told you. Told you._

She and Miller had been _talking?_

Bellamy whirled on her. “You _told him?_ You’ve been– been–”

“We have something to tell you, big brother,” Octavia said, crawling out from under the floor tiles. “We all agreed you need to know.”

“Know? Know _what?_ That my little sister just compromised the safety of _our whole family?_ And who is _we? Octavia, what’s going on?”_

“I don’t know,” Octavia said. “One second I was on the beach, the next second I’m underneath the floor again.”

_“What beach?”_

“I think Raven was right. The people who didn’t transcend time traveled,” Miller said solemnly. 

_“Time traveled?”_ Bellamy cried, and was ignored.

Miller rubbed his chin contemplatively. “Well. Either that, or it’s an oddly specific mass hallucination. One way or the other, it’s not the weirdest thing we’ve had to deal with.”

“I wonder if Wonkru remembers,” Octavia mused, and Miller shrugged.

 _“Who is Wonkru?”_ Bellamy demanded.

“The people who live on the ground,” Miller explained, as if that was not the most insane sentence Bellamy had ever heard in his life. 

“What do you mean, _the ground?”_

“We called them Grounders,” Ocravia volunteered, like that was helpful information. 

“No. Stop. _Stop._ Back up. What do you mean, _time travel?”_

Octavia put her hands on his shoulders. “Bellamy,” she said, “listen. In a few months, I’m going to get caught.”

“You’ve _already_ been caught!” Bellamy said, pointing to Miller.

“That’s– no. Bellamy, look. I’m going to get caught, Mom’s getting floated, you’re going to get kicked out of the Guard–”

Bellamy blinked, mollified. “You think I’ll get into the Guard?”

Octavia rolled her eyes. “Not the point, big brother. Look, I’m still underage, so I go to the Skybox. Right?”

“Yeah?”

“So, basically, after a series of… _very_ unfortunate events, the human race gets wiped out.” She shoved Miller gently. “We figure we’re here to stop that from happening.”

“I’m sorry,” Bellamy said. _“How,_ exactly, does you getting caught by the Guard lead to our extinction?”

Octavia winced. “Long story.”

“Long story. Right.” Bellamy rubbed his forehead. This was _not_ how he’d expected this day to go. “Of course.”

Miller was looking concerned. “Bellamy? You good?”

“No! Are you _freaking kidding me?”_ Bellamy burst out. He had wanted to say something stronger than _freaking,_ but Octavia was still his baby sister and he was absolutely not going to be the one to corrupt her. _“Time travel? Grounders? That’s_ what you’re going with? How dumb do you guys think I am?” He turned to Miller. “Look, man, just tell me what we have to do so you won’t turn us in.”

“I think Clarke might’ve been more convincing,” Octavia said mildly. “She has a knack for convincing people of things.”

“Look,” said Miller, “the only reason _I_ came and not Clarke was that _I_ could come over here without drawing attention. Come on, you think the neighbors _wouldn’t_ notice a reasonably pretty girl coming over to a reasonably pretty boy’s room that, as far as they know, is otherwise empty? The rumors would _fly.”_

Bellamy frowned. He didn’t recognize the name at all. “Clarke? Who’s Clarke?”

“In the future…” Octavia hesitated. “Well, she was your best friend.”

_“Was?”_

“Yeah, there were some… _irreconcilable differences_ between you two towards the end of your life.”

_“What?”_

“Well, she did kill you.”

_“She what?”_

“Okay,” Miller said quickly. “Okay, Octavia, I think he’s had enough.”

“Oh, no no no no no,” Bellamy said. “I’m hearing everything. Give it to me.”

* * *

“So,” Bellamy said, trying and probably failing for patience as his sister and Miller sat guiltily on the bunk bed, both studiously avoiding eye contact, “let me get this straight. You,” he said, pointing at Octavia, “are a _war lord_ who led an army of hundreds of– of _Grounders_ after the apocalypse happened _a second and third time._ And _you,”_ he said, swinging around to point at Miller, “are a guard who was part of the hundred people that got sent to the ground. These same hundred people, and the people on the Ark right now, got swept up in a war between factions of Grounders, some of whom live in Mount Rainy.”

“Mount Weather,” Miller mumbled.

 _“And,”_ Bellamy went on, undeterred, “this Clarke person– who you say I was _friends with–_ decided to _murder me,_ for reasons neither of you are too clear about, and somehow _neither of you seem all that upset about it.”_

“That’s the gist of it,” Octavia said.

Bellamy threw his hands in the air. _“Do neither of you hear how ridiculous this sounds?”_

“For sure,” Miller said. “And we haven’t even told you about the mind drives yet.”

“The mi– oh, please, do enlighten me. _What the hell are mind drives?”_

There was a pause.

“It’s complicated,” Miller said.

“Have I mentioned I got trained to be a warrior?” Octavia asked. “Because I’d rather explain that.”

“You have, about a thousand times,” Bellamy said. He shoved his head into his hands. “Oh, God.”

Miller jolted suddenly. “What time is it?”

“Nearly curfew,” Octavia said. “You’d better get going.”

“Curfew,” Miller mumbled, half to himself. “Can’t believe I forgot about curfew.” He stood. “Bye, guys. Bellamy, find me tomorrow, okay?”

Bellamy just grunted into his palms in response. He wasn’t sure if he could form a coherent sentence if he tried.

“See you, Miller,” Octavia said.

“Good night!” Miller called, and the door clicked shut behind him.

It took ten more minutes for Bellamy to finish interrogating Octavia, and he only stopped because their mother came home and Octavia gave him a _Look,_ as if to say _if you dare say a single word I will rip your tongue out and eat it and you know I can and will make good on that promise_.

So he didn’t say anything while his mother was there. He just ate dinner, did his homework, finished the project that-he-and-Miller-were-supposed-to-do-together-but-at-this-point-who-even-cared-anymore, and went to bed.

It was in bed that Bellamy started thinking about it again.

He stared up at the ceiling. How in the world was he supposed to get to sleep tonight?

He could hear his mother snoring softly in the bunk above him, and Octavia rustling her blankets in the cot below his bed. It was like a normal night, except it absolutely wasn’t. Not even a little bit.

Octavia broke the silence. “I know how to fight, you know.”

Bellamy rolled over, hugging his pillow. “Oh, really?”

He could hear her shifting in her bed. “The muscle memory should still be there, even if the muscle isn’t. Hey. You’re training to be a guard. We should fight.”

“Good night, Octavia,” Bellamy said, closing his eyes.

“Bet I could kick your butt.”

“Good _night,_ Octavia.”

* * *

The next day, when Bellamy and his class were released for the afternoon, he caught sight of Miller again. He was eating lunch with a group of friends, most of which Bellamy had never met before. In fact, he was pretty sure the only people there he could name was Miller himself, plus another boy Bellamy had seen loitering around in the halls. Murphy.

Upon first glance, the group looked like a bunch of teenagers, casually having lunch together. 

Upon second glance, it was clear that the blonde girl was the leader. 

Upon third glance, it was clear that this was no casual lunch. 

Their eyes were wary, sweeping the cafeteria for threats. They huddled together, like they were the only people in the universe. Bellamy was suddenly very aware of how their hands all lay centimeters from metal utensils.

Strangest of all, though, was their hushed conversation.

Bellamy’s mother had always taught him not to eavesdrop, but Bellamy couldn’t have understood what they were saying if he tried. It was like gibberish, like a whole new language. But that couldn’t be right. Fifty years ago, English had been made the standard language for everyone. Bellamy didn’t know a single word in any other language. How had these people learned an entirely new one?

But then Bellamy’s eyes caught on the leader, and he looked at her– really looked at her.

Oh.

That had to be her. 

Clarke Griffin. Med student, mother, and part-time murderer. 

The woman who killed him.

It was the first time he’d ever seen her up close.

She didn’t really look the way he’d expected. Of course, Bellamy didn’t really know what he _had_ expected– maybe a woman built of muscle and missing an eye, some battle scars, at least three times bigger than him and twice as mean.

But no.

Clarke was thin, and shorter than he was. Her eyes were blue, her skin pale, and her hair was long and golden. Her hands were slim and delicate, and she looked like she hadn’t done hard labor a single day of her life.

But he knew it had to be her. There was nobody else it _could_ be.

Clarke’s body might have been like a princess’s, but her eyes were hard and steely and strong. The cool and confident undercurrent belied her youthful face. No doubt, this was a woman who would do what she had to do, no matter what it was, to get what she wanted.

He ignored the twitch of– well, _something_ that crossed her face when their eyes met. Whether it was guilt or annoyance or regret, he didn’t care. Whatever had happened between them that had led to his death… well, that was her problem, not his. Besides, the look was gone as soon as it had come, and then she was smiling at him. 

The conversation at the table stopped.

Slowly, Bellamy walked over. Slowly, he came to a stop beside her. Slowly, he opened his mouth and spoke.

“Clarke, right?”

“That’s me,” she said. “How can I help you?”

“You’re Miller’s friend, right?” he said.

“Yeah,” she said. “Uh– I’m a med student. Right now. You need a medic?” She glanced sideways, towards Miller, who nodded. “Or– does Octavia?”

Bellamy was unable to stop his entire body from going rigid. Clarke’s eyes went wide.

“Ah, wait, wait, wait, I’m not gonna tell anyone!” she said. “Just… you know. Let me know. If you… need anything.” For the first time, she seemed to notice Bellamy’s schoolbag, and she nodded to it, smiling a little. “Even that. Never graduated, but I do know a thing or two.”

Bellamy blinked, a little taken aback. From her manner, it almost seemed like Clarke was perfectly willing to do whatever he had been about to ask, whether it be help on schoolwork or probably-illegal medical care for the _definitely-_ illegal child hiding in his bedroom.

“Sorry,” he mumbled.

“S’okay,” Clarke said, and smiled at him. “You’re not used to other people talking about her yet.”

Bellamy shifted uncomfortably. Clarke was right, he wasn’t used to it. He _also_ wasn’t used to Council member’s kids talking to him. 

Which reminded him…

“I don’t… remember,” he said, a little awkwardly.

“I know,” Clarke said.

“I hear you’re the one who killed me, though,” he said, and Clarke’s smile vanished.

“...Yeah,” she said. “Yeah, I did.”

“Was it worth it?” Bellamy asked.

He wasn’t stupid. People like her– people who sacrificed the few for the many, people like the Council members– always, _always,_ managed to justify their actions. It was the one-child rule, it was the minor-crimes-equal-the-death-penalty rule, it was _how they survived_ and if they weren’t careful it would be how they died, too. 

_So, Griffin– what were your reasons?_

But Clarke was blinking rapidly– blinking away tears? 

“No,” she said. “It wasn’t.”

_Interesting._

Bellamy gnawed at his lip. Neither Octavia nor Miller had been too talkative about what, exactly, had caused his death. “What happened?” 

Clarke clenched her fists. The others around the table all seemed to suddenly get very interested in their fingernails. “Does it matter?” she asked.

 _Yes!_ Bellamy wanted to yell. _Yes, if I’m going to trust you, if I’m going to let_ Octavia _trust you, then yes, it_ absolutely _matters._

But he couldn’t speak. It was like his jaw was locked shut.

“Clarke,” a new voice said, and Bellamy looked up, blinking, to see another teenage girl standing at the other end of the table. She froze when Bellamy met her eyes.

“Oops,” she said. “Didn’t realize you guys were… talking. Sorry.”

“S’okay,” Bellamy mumbled. He vaguely recognized this girl from his classes. “Raven, right?”

“Yup,” she said, and an awkward silence fell around the table.

“Uh, what… what did you need, Raven?” Clarke asked, turning away from Bellamy.

Raven hesitated, looking at Bellamy again, then back to Clarke, and said… something. 

It was clearly another language, that much was certain, and it was probably the same one they had been speaking earlier when Bellamy had arrived. But it was so close to English that Bellamy almost felt like he could understand it– like he was on a precipice, the edge of knowing what the hell they were talking about.

_Is this a stroke? Is this what having a stroke feels like?_

“That’s _great,”_ Clarke said, and Bellamy was jolted back to reality. “Have you talked to them yet?”

“Just Emori,” Raven said, obviously taking the cue to switch back to English. Her eyes darted to Bellamy again. “Does he…?” she turned to Bellamy. “Do you, uh–”

“No,” Bellamy said. “No, I do not remember going to the _ground,_ or _surviving the apocalypse,_ or getting _murdered._ Thank you.”

Clarke’s face seemed to be frozen in a grimace, but she met Bellamy’s eyes. “Look,” she said, “we’re going to try to meet with some Grounders on a radio. You want to come listen? Octavia’s going to need a go-between, and it would look suspicious if you guys had too many visitors. But if all the neighbors see is a kid heading home after a long day…”

She held out a hand.

Bellamy paused.

“Why did I die?” he asked, and Clarke sighed.

“I made a mistake,” she said. “And you trusted the wrong man.”

“Would you do it again?”

“Yes,” she said. “But you’d do the same to me for Octavia.” 

_Octavia._

How had Bellamy forgotten?

This woman, this woman who had _killed him,_ she _knew about Octavia._

And _her mother_ was on the Council.

Clarke Griffin could make his life hell if she chose to.

He had to go along with her. He had no other choice.

Shakily, Bellamy took her hand. “Okay. Deal.” 

Clarke nodded grimly.

“Bygones,” Murphy muttered, breaking the silence of the table.

“Shut up, Murphy,” Raven said, and the table descended into squabbling as Bellamy took his leave, wondering what he had just gotten himself into.

He could feel Clarke’s thoughtful blue gaze burning the back of his neck all the way out of the cafeteria.

* * *

After Miller slipped him a piece of paper with the location and time for the meeting during class, Bellamy had been determined to arrive early.

It turned out he didn’t need to.

“What do you mean, it’s _not working?”_ Bellamy said impatiently.

“What do you _think_ it means?” Raven snapped back. “Establishing a connection between space and Earth is a lot harder than it looks, okay?”

Bellamy fought the urge to scream. Across the room, Murphy was playing with a paper airplane. Jackson was keeping watch at the door. Bellamy was pretty sure Miller was asleep, but it was possible he just enjoyed resting face down on the desk.

“Hey, I think it’s working now!” Clarke called from the other side of the room.

Raven started to jog over. “Lemme–”

Someone on screen stuttered. There was an electronic-sounding squeal, then silence.

Raven’s face fell.

There was an awkward pause.

“It’s frozen,” Clarke said.

“…Yeah. I can see that, Clarke,” Raven said. She hit the side of the screen.

“I don’t think that did anything.”

“I can _see that,_ Clarke.” Raven hit the side of the screen again, swore, and ducked under the desk, tugging at wires. “You’ve _got_ to be kidding me…”

Clarke shook the screen. Jackson leaned over and tapped it. There was no response.

“I don’t think it’s us with the problem,” Raven called from beneath the desk. _“Goddamnit…”_

There was another harsh squeal of feedback.

More stuttering.

There was the _ksshhhh– kssshhh–_ of static–

And then–

“Clarke?” a tinny, electronic-sounding voice said.

Clarke’s eyes lit up. “Niylah!”

“Hey,” Raven said, scrambling out from under the desk. “Hey! It’s working!”

“No need to sound so surprised,” another voice said.

Raven was grinning. “Aw, you know I never doubted you, my young protégée.”

“Is that all of you?” the first voice asked. “I see Clarke, Raven, Jackson, Miller…”

“Um,” said Clarke. “Actually… there’s someone else here.” She turned to look at Bellamy, and the message was clear: _get the hell over here, now._

Bellamy edged forwards.

And there, crowded onto one screen, was a sea of unfamiliar faces.

_Oh, boy._

“Hi,” he mumbled.

“Bellamy?” one of the women breathed.

Bellamy swallowed. 

He had never met this woman in his life. 

But she obviously knew him.

Unless Clarke and her friends were playing a cruel trick on him– and unless Octavia had agreed to risk her life to do it– this had to be… real. 

Here it was, real, tangible _proof_ that he had lived another life, had been another man, and he remembered none of it.

“Yeah,” he said. “Uh… well… not _your_ Bellamy.”

“Bellamy doesn’t remember,” Clarke said softly. She shot him a tight-lipped smile, and he pretended not to notice the way it shook. “He’s here on Octavia’s behalf. She can’t be seen in public because of the one-child law, so… he’s here to relay information back to her.”

Bellamy grunted, picking at his fingernails to avoid the woman’s eyes on the screen. _“And_ so I can make sure you won’t get us both arrested.”

“Fair enough,” Raven said, leaning in with a familiarity that made Bellamy _very_ uncomfortable. “Bellamy, that’s Echo, by the way.”

Echo’s face had gone completely blank. “Emori’s here, Murphy,” she said, and stepped out of the frame.

Bellamy slunk off frame as well, allowing Murphy to take his place. Murphy, who was all but vibrating with excitement. Murphy, who looked like a delighted puppy.

“Emori!” Murphy cried, and the tattooed woman’s eyes lit up.

“John! You remember!”

_...Ouch._

“Like I could forget you,” Murphy beamed, which was an expression Bellamy didn’t even know he was capable of making.

“Who else is down there?” Clarke demanded.

“Gaia and myself, Emori, Echo, and Niylah,” the oldest woman said. “And you all?

But Clarke nodded, as if she’d expected that list of completely random names, and grabbed the screen from Murphy. 

“Me, Raven, Murphy, Octavia, Miller, and Jackson all remember,” she said. “And– I think we can assume that Hope, Levitt, and Jordan… well, they have no way of telling us if they remember, or even of– you know what? We should just accept that we have no idea about those three.”

“We won’t know until we meet again,” the younger, black-haired woman said. “And I think it’s safe to say that that won’t be for years.”

“Does anyone actually know what’s happened?” Clarke said. “Why do we remember?”

“We chose not to transcend,” the eldest woman said. “That’s what we all have in common.”

“Yeah, we’re the chosen ones,” Murphy said. “But does anyone have a theory as to _why?”_

“Wait– Madi?” Clarke asked. “Does Madi remember?”

“We– don’t know,” the blonde woman confessed, lowering her voice so Bellamy had to strain to hear. “I’m sorry, Clarke. We had no way of checking.”

Clarke looked crushed. “Really?”

The woman rolled her eyes. “Yes, really. And trust me, I _tried._ But– look, Clarke. Madi is a toddler. I’m not a miracle worker. Her parents aren’t going to let a group of strangers– _with a Fleimkepa, don’t forget–_ just _take her._ And on top of that, we had to negotiate with Lexa and the Kongeda to get this tech in the first place. It was hard enough getting Echo, Emori, and I in here.”

“Emori?” Clarke echoed. “Why–”

“Frikdreina,” the tattooed girl said.

“Oh, right. But Niylah, you–”

“Half Azgeda,” the blonde– Niylah?– said.

“Wait, but you never told me–”

“ _Any_ way,” Raven said, “thank you, guys, for doing this. Now. How do we get down there?”

“Hello, before this conversation goes off the rails again, I’m still wondering _why_ we all remember,” Murphy said. “I thought we were all going to die, not… keep going.”

“Maybe this is another chance,” Clarke said. “Maybe this time, we can actually _do better._ Give the human race another shot, instead of, you know, being uploaded into a collective consciousness of… whatever. You know?”

“My question is who _else_ remembers,” Miller said. “We know Bellamy doesn't remember– sorry, Bellamy– and we know Monty, Abby, Kane, Jasper, and Harper don’t remember. So it looks like if you died before the last war, you don’t remember, but we have no idea about the people that transcended. Clarke’s right. We need to find Madi and figure out if she remembers.”

“You mean _we_ need to find Madi,” the tattooed girl said. _“You guys_ need to figure out a way back down.”

“Easy,” Murphy said. “Let’s all get arrested and wait. I call setting fire to the Last Tree.”

_Arrested!?_

“Bad idea,” Clarke said. “Raven’ll be over eighteen soon, and then she’ll be floated. And what if the rest of us don’t get picked to go down again? We’re running out of oxygen up here. Who do you think is going to get culled first?”

“I agree,” Jackson said grimly. “Besides, Clarke’s right, Raven, Bellamy, and I will all be adults before they send the 100 to earth. We should keep our heads down and pull a Bellamy to get on the dropship.”

 _Pull a_ what?

“I mean, Clarke’s going to get arrested no matter what,” Niylah said. “Unless your father can be convinced not to deliver his message?”

“He can’t,” Clarke said wearily. “I already tried.”

“What about you, John?” the tattooed girl asked. “When are you…?”

“I’m going to get sick about two weeks from now,” Murphy said. “So, hey, if we come up with a better plan than ‘get arrested’ before then, I’m all for it.”

“Try washing your hands more than once a month,” Raven suggested, and he stuck his tongue out at her.

“Uh,” Bellamy said, and all of them, even Clarke, turned to him. He shuffled, a little uncomfortable. “Why can’t you guys just bring the Chancellor in here and let _him_ talk to the Grounders?”

Silence.

 _“Bellamy Blake_ wants to bring the Chancellor into this?” Murphy said in mock-amazement. “It’s the end of days! …Again.” 

“Woah, woah, wait,” Raven said. “He’s right. Why don’t we just… prove the ground is survivable? I mean, we have an established connection, right here. People are surviving on Earth. There’s no need to send the 100 as a test group. We can just… establish relations between the Kongeda and Skaikru. Starting today. Better yet, we can make sure we’re not invading anyone’s land again. Problem solved.”

The group was quiet again for a couple of seconds.

“Yeah, that’s a better plan than mine,” Murphy said. “See, this is why you’re the brains of this outfit.”

“It was _my_ idea,” Bellamy protested, and Murphy winked at him.

“We need to get Octavia in on this,” Clarke said. She paused. “And… Lexa, too, if you guys can pull that off.”

“I might be able to do that,” the oldest woman said. “I have the Commander’s ear.”’

“Thank you, Indra,” Clarke said softly, and Indra nodded to her.

“She only just formed the Coalition,” she said. “Costia died only a few days ago. She may not be receptive to this news.”

Clarke’s lips thinned. “Okay. Got it.”

“So, who’s the lucky winner that gets to convince the Chancellor?” Murphy asked. “I vote Clarke.”

Clarke shot him a poisonous glare. “I was going to volunteer myself anyway.”

“Yeah, I know,” he said. “We all know. Just trying to save you the trouble of saying it.”

Clarke rolled her eyes. “Wells and I have a chess game this afternoon. I’ll ask if I can talk to his dad.”

“Sounds like a plan,” the tattooed girl said. “We’ll try to find Madi, and Indra will convince Lexa.”

“Lexa is the priority,” Clarke said abruptly. “Just– remember that, okay? Madi is safe for now. The Ark… the Ark isn’t. We need to establish relations soon. Make Lexa the priority.”

The tattooed girl’s eyes softened. “Sure, Clarke.”

“I’ll monitor this,” Raven said, patting the device. “Call when you have news.”

“Great!” Murphy said with false cheer. “And, as we all know, all of our plans always work out exactly the way we want them to.”

“To be fair,” Raven said, “sending a hundred people to the ground probably worked about as well as could be expected.”

“What, that all of us would die before thirty?” Murphy said.

“Yeah,” Raven said. “That’s exactly what I mean.”

“Okay, then.”

“Hey,” Bellamy said, and they all looked at him. He started inching his way towards the door. “I’m gonna go. I have to tell Octavia…”

Clarke nodded briskly. “Be sure to tell her that the people who didn’t transcend remember for sure. She’ll know what that means.”

“Great,” Bellamy said, and started towards the door.

“Seeya, Bellamy!” someone on the screen called.

He flinched, but didn’t bother looking back.

* * *

By the time he got there, their room was dark, and totally silent.

Sighing, Bellamy sat on the bed, raking his hands through his hair.

God, what a day.

Slowly, he leaned down and rapped the floor twice. Paused. Rapped three more times.

There was a brief lull, and then there was the sound of scraping floor tiles.

“Hey, big brother,” Octavia whispered. 

“Hey,” he said, and Octavia wriggled out from her alcove in the floor.

“I hate it under there,” she said.

“I know you do.”

“I guess that much hasn’t changed, huh?” Octavia offered him a tiny smile. “Over a hundred years old, and I’m still claustrophobic. So, what happened at the meeting?”

Bellamy shrugged. “We came up with a plan. Clarke’s going to try to get the Chancellor to talk to the Grounders.”

Octavia nodded silently. “That’s probably the best thing we can do right now.” She started picking at the hem of her shirt. “Anything else?”

Bellamy shrugged again. “Clarke said to tell you that the people who didn’t ascend remember for sure, or something.”

Octavia’s eyebrows shot up. “You mean _transcend?_ We’d already guessed that, but I guess it’s nice to have confirmation.” She stretched out on the ground, yawning. “So… do you have any questions for me?”

_Yes._

Bellamy opened his mouth. There were a thousand questions he could have asked. _What happened on the ground? Who is the Commander? What does_ transcend _mean? How old are you, really? Why couldn’t I protect you?_

“Would Clarke turn us in?” he asked instead. “If I made her mad?”

“No. Well, probably not,” Octavia said. “Clarke isn’t the… vengeful type. Trust me, Bell. If she ever feels threatened by us, she’ll take care of it herself. She won’t turn us in.”

“And by _take care of it_ you mean…”

“She’ll kill us herself, yeah.”

“Comforting.”

Octavia yawned again, looking perfectly at ease with the threat of murder. “Don’t worry, she needs you.”

Bellamy blinked. That was news. “She does?”

“Sure. You guys were co-leaders. And, you know, you actually were friends, in the future. She killed you under extreme circumstances. _Really_ extreme circumstances. And she knows that if she hurts either of us, you won’t work with her. Don’t worry so much, big brother. Clarke’s a friend.”

“Hmm.” Bellamy said noncommittally. 

“Any other questions?”

Bellamy shook himself. “Oh. Yeah. Who’s Echo? She seemed like she knew me.”

Octavia’s face fell. “Echo remembers?”

Bellamy shrugged. “I guess.”

“Oh,” she said.

There was a long stretch of silence. Bellamy let her brood. Maybe she needed it. He could almost hear the unspoken cry of _Echo remembers and_ you _don’t?_

But… 

Bellamy wasn’t a big brother for nothing. Maybe his little sister wasn’t so little anymore, and maybe everything had changed, and maybe Bellamy didn’t know anything about this whole new world, but he did know one thing.

His sister was upset. And it was his job to cheer her up.

“Hey,” he said, and Octavia hummed. “I guess we might actually be going to the ground in our lifetimes.” 

Octavia grunted.

Right. That was old news by now.

Bellamy forged ahead anyway. 

“So, I want to be ready when we make an alliance with the Grounders.”

“Okay?”

“And I hear you’re a warrior.”

Octavia sat up. “Yeah?”

“Can you teach me to fight?”

His sister grinned, and it was wild and dangerous and elated all at once.

“I thought you’d never ask,” she said, and in that moment, Bellamy knew, weirdness or not, that they would be all right.

(Of course, they both had hell to pay when their mother found him an hour later, on the floor, bruised and groaning, with his little sister grinning down at him, but it was worth it. Octavia’s laughter would always be worth it. Every single time.)

Maybe in the future, they would be at odds again. Maybe the people around him would always look at Bellamy and see a ghost. Maybe the Chancellor’s negotiations with the Grounders would fail and they would be back at square one. Maybe Clarke would kill him again.

But for now, Bellamy had his sister. He had his mother. And he was going to the ground.

He readied himself for Octavia’s opening attack and, despite himself, smiled.

**Author's Note:**

> i love clarke so much i tried so hard to be fair to her but... you know... she did kill bellamy, and this story is from his pov, so. yeah.


End file.
